The Adventures of the Greene Dixon
by apenny12
Summary: A series of interrelated and non-related drabbles featuring Beth Greene and Daryl Dixon. *Interrelated one-shots will be labelled in parts. *Each drabble will be between 100 and 300 words. *Post prison collapse. *130 Writing Prompts by undefinedromance89 on deviantart* *Rating for adult situations, graphic depictions of violence, and language.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

Prompt # 100: Monster(s)

Monsters had always been a constant presence in his life. When he was young, it was his father, as he aged it was Merle, until he was a grown man and had become a monster himself. He had no goal in life. He drifted with Merle, when Merle was out of prison, then fought and stole to survive while he died a little more inside every day. Then the apocalypse ravaged the earth and the _real_ monsters emerged.

"You wanna' stop and take a break?" Beth's voice broke through his reverie.

"Ya' tired?" He glanced at her through the fringe of his shaggy hair.

"A bit," she smiled sheepishly up at him.  
She had told him that he had changed. That he had 'gotten away' from the lifestyle he lead when he was with Merle. She told him he was a _good_ man. He thrived in the apocalypse because his world before wasn't much different, minus the walking corpses.

What he hadn't told her was that he would do whatever it took to keep that smile on her face. Anything in his power to shield her from the horrors that surrounded them. Everything he could to keep her from experiencing the guilt and remorse of having to take another person's life. She had given his existence purpose.

Daryl would become the worst kind of monster as long as it kept her safe.

**A/N: **So in order to keep you guys occupied while the Walking Dead isn't on AND to give me time to get my creative juices working on the second part of my trilogy, I decided to try my hand at drabbles. I've never written them before and I thought it'd be fun to see the little snippets of how I think Daryl and Beth got so close in regards to their relationship in my story. We didn't get much of a time frame in season four so I could justifiably believe they were together for a month or two before they got separated. Being together with someone _day_ and _night,_ in the apocalypse, anyone would get close to their companion. Add the fact that Beth and Daryl had already known each other for over a year (going by the seasons since no definite time has ever been established), they're already familiar with each other. They would just build from that and get to know each other more intimately; as I will express in these drabbles! : )

If you're new to my page, then feel free to check out 'For the Ones You Love,' my first part of a three part series with Daryl and Beth. It's my take on what I would have liked to have seen happen with Beth after she was kidnapped.

XOXO


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

Prompt # 52: Coffee

"What's one of the things you miss most about _before_?" She asked absently as she poked at the fire between them.

He was quiet for a moment. Beth looked up to see him rubbing his chin, deep in thought. She smiled, finding it sweet that he was considering her question so seriously.

"Coffee," he murmured.

"Coffee?" Beth's expression incredulous.

"Ah' redneck can't like their coffee?" Daryl's tone had become defensive.

"You just didn't seem tha' type," Beth shrugged her shoulders, not rising to his bait.

She had become comfortable around Daryl, learning when he was using anger to mask his other emotions, and when he was just being a jerk.

"Well there's lots'ah things you don't know 'bout me," Daryl blurted out.

Beth crossed her arms over her knees from where she was squatting in front of the fire on her heels and eyed him thoughtfully. A wicked grin spread across her features and she could see the blood drain from Daryl's face.

He had just challenged her...and _oh_ how Beth loved a good challenge.

"Don't cha' go gettin' no weird ideas," Daryl squinted at her.

"Too late," Beth tossed at him as she stood, "It's just you and me now. Before it's all said and done, I'll know you better than you know yer'self."

Daryl sighed, bowing his head, and muttering under his breath, "Way to go Dixon."

Beth couldn't help the giggle that passed her lips at Daryl's expense. Maybe everything would be okay after all.

**A/N: **This is my fav so far! : ) Reviews keep me writing!


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

Prompt # 64: Winter

They had been traveling for days, stopping to sleep only when their feet could no longer carry them, and even then they slept in shifts within their makeshift security fence. They were running low on water and provisions. The temperatures were dropping. It would be winter soon and they had yet to find a decent place to hunker down or enough clothes to keep them warm.

As winter drew closer, Daryl's anxiety rose. He had become more withdrawn, more on edge, and had even snapped at her a couple of times. Beth tried to go out of her way to help and do more than her share, to take some of the stress off of Daryl, but nothing seemed to matter.

Beth stayed a few paces behind, thinking of new schemes to try and ease Daryl's nerves, when a herd of walkers came out of the woods up ahead.

"Shit," Beth heard Daryl curse.

The walkers had caught their scent and the entire group was now shuffling in their direction. Beth looked around for a place they could hide, but there was nothing that would keep out a herd. Daryl must have come to the same conclusion because he had already turned, snatched her hand in his, and was tugging her behind him while he ran back in the direction they had been walking.

Having backtracked over a mile, they made camp inside an abandoned car on the side of the road. They couldn't risk camping out in the open, not with a herd to close by. Daryl had said they'd travel a different direction in the morning. He said he thought he'd see a house through the trees as they'd been running.

Beth nodded, leaving the decisions of their directions to the expert, which led her to her next thought, "I want you t'teach me how to track. Ya' know, like you do? And how to use a crossbow so I can help hunt."

Daryl stared at her for a bit, chewing on his bottom lip, while sizing her up, "Whatcha' wanna' learn all that for?"

Beth noted his tone and knew he had taken the question as an insult to his ability. She wanted to sigh at his profound ability to understand her. If she didn't think he was good at what he did, she wouldn't ask him to teach her those skills.

"I wanna' help. I _want_ to learn. Yer' good at it. Rick always asked for your expertise when we were trackin', or huntin', and I wanna' be someone you can depend on. I don't wanna' be a burden," Beth answered him honestly.

Daryl eyes her seriously from where he sat across form her on the bench truck seat, "Alright. I can teach ya'.Ain't that hard."

Beth smiled. She had decided earlier that the only way she was going to be able to help Daryl was to become more handy. She had always been on the support team, but never on the front lines. Now that it was just the two of them; that had to change.  
_  
_

**A/N: **A bit of a longer drabble, but it wrote itself! Hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 3


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

Prompt # 99: Hospital *Part 1*

Daryl motioned to Beth, signally that she follow behind him and stay low, while he maneuvered himself behind a neglected pick-up truck. He stood just tall enough to peak into the driver's side window, through the truck, to the street on the other side. They needed medical supplies and the only place they had found that might have anything at all was a small veterinarian hospital.

With Beth right behind him, Daryl tapped his middle finger and thumb together once. Every tap translated to approximately ten walkers. They had developed a non-verbal language out of simple gestures and hand signals so they could still communicate, but not give their position away.

Beth nodded and Daryl pointed in the direction of the side alley between the privacy fence and the clinic. He then lifted his crossbow and slunk to the end of the truck. Glancing around before darting around the truck. He immediately took aim shot a bolt through the skull of what used to be a female human being.

Hearing another thud, Daryl whipped around in time to see Beth wiping thick, black blood on the shirt of the walker she took out, and then smirked. Using his index finger he flicked it a few times, signaling for her to follow him.

Beth made her way over to him while he retrieved his bolt, "Not bad," he mentioned while he yanked out the projectile.

"I come by it naturally," Beth teased.

It was sad that killing walkers, creatures that used to be living, breathing individuals, just like the two of them, could be joked about. Honestly though, they had stopped thinking of them as 'people' _long_ ago.

"Sure ya' do," Daryl mocked.

"Well…then…" she paused before smiling devilishly at him as they crept to the backdoor of the animal hospital, "I had a good teacher."

Daryl let out a dry chuckle. He honestly never knew what to expect to come out of her mouth. She was a pretty quick wit and all of the sweet and innocence had vanished in her ease around him. Sometimes he missed the time when he envisioned her as nothing but an angel, back then he wouldn't have had to put up with her smart ass comments and ability to put him on the spot. Then again he appreciated her honestly. Envied how was able to express her feelings and thoughts so easily. He might have felt a bit of pride, as well, in the fact that she did all of these things with him. It wasn't every day he had such a comfort level with someone.

As he stopped in front of the back door and gave Beth a once over, he decided she was perfect just the way she way.

He wouldn't have her any other way.

**A/N: **I am happy to announce that I have part 2 for my For the Ones trilogy planned out! It will be titled **For the Ones You Change**. I plan to start writing it within the next few days. Once I have a few chapters typed out and feel I have a solid direction, I'll start posting! Until then enjoy the drabbles! Reviews are appreciated! : )


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

Prompt # 22: Band-aid *Part 2*

Daryl slowly opened the door. The stench of death permeated the air. The hospital had long since been deserted and by the smell of things, the poor animals being treated had been abandoned as well. For the most part, the hospital seemed untouched, which left hope that they might find something of use.

"Place smells like a fuckin' charnel house," Daryl mumbled from under the arm he had wrapped around his face in the effort of suppressing some of the odor.

"_Daryl!_" Beth hissed at his disrespect.

Daryl ignored her, "I'ma do a sweep. Stay put," he ordered after tying his bandana around his face in a makeshift facemask.

After scouting each room, shutting doors to help them keep up with which rooms they had searched, Daryl gave Beth the 'all clear.' He followed behind her as she walked toward the hallway and entered one of the examination rooms. They could have split up and covered more ground, but Daryl hadn't even contemplated the thought with Beth's gun out of ammo and only having his knife to protect herself with.

"Find anything?" She asked as they searched the last examination room.

"Not even a god damned band-aid," Daryl grouched.

"I found some ointment," Beth turned to him with a black, cylindrical container in hand.

Daryl approached her, taking the ointment and attempting to read the label, "What tha' hell is it?"

"It's Nitrofurazone Dressing or Fura-Zone for short," Beth answered as if it explained everything.

Daryl gave her a look, "What's it for?"

"It's for treating surface bacterial infections, wounds, burns, and cutaneous ulcers in horses. It treats a wide variety of bacteria. Daddy used it all the time," She replied as she turned to continue searching.

"It safe t'use? On us?" Daryl unscrewed the yellow lid and looked skeptically down at the amber cream inside.

"Probably," Beth shrugged her shoulders.

Daryl stuffed the ointment in his bag. Hershel had been a vet and Beth had learned from him. Daryl had trusted Hershel and he also trusted Beth. It was funny how easily he could admit that now, that he had people he trusted.

"What?" Beth asked over her shoulder, where she stood on her tiptoes to look in an overhead cabinet.

"Nothin," Daryl answered shaking his head.

Daryl trusted Beth. She trusted him. That was all he needed.

**A/N: **One more part to close out this little drabble! : )


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

Prompt # 67: Ambulance *Part 3*

Looking Daryl over skeptically, Beth returned to rummaging through the cabinets. He felt like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, staring at her like he was. Shaking his head he walked to the door to check the hallway for any signs of walkers catching their scent.

"Dang it!" Beth whimpered behind him.

Daryl was in front of her before he even realized he had told his body to move, "What…what's wrong?"

Beth held one hand palm up, clutching at her wrist tightly with the other. Her upturned hand was covered in a bright red, thick liquid. It was dripping past the sides of her palm onto her boots and the tile floor. Blood continued to ooze from the laceration across the middle of her palm.

"I was reaching in the cabinets, feelin' around for stuff, and I caught it on somethin'," Beth explained with a pained expression.

Daryl grabbed for the rag he carried in his back pocket. It was dirty, filthy, but they hadn't found any sort of bandages. The rag would have to do. He tied it tightly around her hand, holding his thumb over the cloth covered wound to keep pressure.

He was pissed at her carelessness. People nowadays could get sick and die from such small injuries. They didn't have an abundance of medicine to keep wounds clean from infection. She should have been more careful. If she couldn't see what she was reaching for then she didn't need to be flailing around in the cabinets.

"You gotta' watch what you're doin'. You know better then t'just go grabbin' for stuff. S'pecially when you can't see the shit up there you're reachin' for," Daryl grumbled.

"Daryl. It's just a cut. Not like you need to call an ambulance," Beth forced a smile, trying to downplay the injury.

"Yeah well we ain't got those anymore anyways. That's the point," Daryl furrowed his brows at her.

"Good thing I found that ointment. Probably going to get an infection from how nasty this rag is," Beth pouted; her face propped up in one hand as she leaned over the counter while Daryl held the other.

Daryl ripped the rag away and left the room. If Beth wasn't sure he was angry, he knew she was well aware now. He heard her call his name, but he kept walking. He barreled into a room across the building, one they had yet to search, and nearly gagged at the stench.

The room was full of rotting animal carcasses in small cages; the kennel. There was a small door at the end of the walkway, which Daryl hadn't bothered to check since it was already shut. Throwing caution to the wind in his fit, Daryl yanked the door open and was greeted by the groaning of an indistinguishable shell of a human in a nurse's outfit.

"Get tha' fuck outta' the way," he snarled, shooting a bolt through the walkers head.

The small room was practically empty, save a wooden shelf along the back wall. Most of the boxes were empty. Anything of use he shoved into his bag, only keeping out one of two the small, plastic wrapped rolls of gauze left on the shelf.

He marched back into the room he'd left Beth in to find her sitting up on the exam table. She was gnawing at her bottom lip, cradling her hand to her chest, keeping pressure on the wound with her uninjured hand.

Daryl didn't say anything. He dropped his bag beside the table, situated himself in front of her, and took her injured hand in his. He ripped open the plastic covering the gauze with his teeth and began dressing her wound.

"I'm sorry I worried you," Beth's voice was soft.

Daryl stopped mid wrap and glanced up at her. He had expected her to be cowering, head dropped in shame, but instead she was looking at him, gaze strong and unafraid.

Daryl was the first to look away, "Don't worry 'bout it. Jus' be more careful next time."

With her hand wrapped and hospital looted of any resources, the two went on their way. She had scared him. The injury hadn't put her in any immediate danger, but his mind began reeling of situations that could occur in the future.

Funny thing was, Daryl had never really thought much into the future. He'd always lived day-to-day. Only looking out for _himself_. Survival of the fittest. Then the group happened. Beth happened. Between the two Daryl found himself full of worries for other people.

Beth's injury had made his heart race and he might or might not have had a brief panic attack, which had immediately turned into anger, causing him to lash out at her. He was sure an apology was in order, but he'd be damned if he ever told her. She seemed to understand him, by her confession while he wrapped up her hand, and he wasn't sure whether to be relieved or unnerved by this.

He was sure of one thing. Screw the walkers. _Beth_ was going to be the death of him.

**A/N: **Happy Easter! Hope everyone has a relaxing day full of sweets and family! 3


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

Prompt # 110: (First) Kiss

"It's _so_ hot," Beth breathed, taking a sip of water.

"Only gonna' get hotter," Daryl admonished.

"I know," Beth deflated while screwing the lip onto the water bottle.

Daryl reached out for the bottle and Beth handed it to him without a second thought. He unscrewed the cap and took a few gulps of water, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and screwed the lid back on before handing it back.

Beth couldn't resist the opportunity. She unscrewed the lid to the water again, took a sip, and giggled.

"What?" Daryl looked down at her where she walked beside him.

She handed the bottle back to him, offering him another drink. He hesitated for a moment, but eventually took the plastic container. When he raised the bottle to his mouth she voiced her thoughts.

"We practically just had our first kiss…actually two now," she hummed nonchalantly.

Water spewed from Daryl's mouth as he choked a bit on the liquid he had tried to swallow.

"What tha' hell you goin' on about?" He griped; wiping off the water he had projected onto his shirt with his free hand.

"Have you never heard that whole spiel 'bout, 'if you drink after someone it's like you're kissin'?" Beth quoted with her fingers in the air.

"What jackass come up with that?" Daryl scoffed.

"I'on know to be honest. Just somethin' my friends always told me," she smiled at the memory.

Daryl wasn't paying attention to her. He seemed annoyed that she had made him waste water, but Beth didn't care. She was comfortable with Daryl and had found she thoroughly enjoyed catching him off guard. It had become a sort of game, 'let's see how many times I can make Daryl speechless.'

"Sounds like a bunch'a silly high school girls lookin' for romance," Daryl's words came out harsh.

Beth didn't immediately reply. She agreed it was silly. She didn't _actually_ believe that drinking after someone was the same as kissing them, but the memories themselves made her happy. Times were so much simpler back then. What she wouldn't give to go back to the days when her biggest fears were going to second base with Jimmy, getting caught on the phone late at night by her Daddy, or if Maggie had noticed she'd borrowed one of her shirts.

Daryl was glancing at her now, probably realizing how rude his comment had come out, but he hadn't actually offended her.

"We were silly…but we were happy," she admitted with a smile.

Daryl made a grunt of acknowledgement.

"But I have to say. I'm thoroughly disappointed by yer' kissing skills," Beth smiled up at him, her way of letting him know he hadn't hurt her feelings.

"Maybe one day I'll teach you 'bout all that too," he smirked while staring down the road ahead.

Beth jerked her head forward, feeling a warm sensation crawling up her neck, stopping at her cheeks. Daryl had turned the tables of her little game back on her. She smiled. At least he was finally teasing her back. That was progress. Then another thought struck her.

He was just joking, _right_?

**A/N: **So this one might actually take the place of my fav! Probably going to be the last drabble I upload for a while. Going to start writing For the Ones You Change. I'm pretty sure you won't mind? : )


	8. Chapter 8 (Gift Fic)

**Disclaimer:** A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

**Gift** for Nicole137137 - my wonderful BETA!

Prompt: Horse

...

"Daryl," Beth whispered harshly.

There was no response.

"_Daryl_," Beth hissed again.

"What?" Daryl hollered from somewhere in the woods.

"_Just tell every walker around where we are, why don't ya',_" Beth grumbled as she scanned the direction of which his voice had sounded.  
"What'cha hollerin' about girl?" Daryl seemed annoyed.

Beth puffed her cheeks. Daryl had been in a bad mood lately. She wasn't sure if it was the heat, the lack of food, or a combination of both, but she'd had enough.

"Get yer' ass over here and see!" She yelled.

Thundering steps approached her and for a brief moment she was scared it was a walker. The steps were too even, rhythmic, and then she was scared for a whole new reason. Daryl looked pissed.

"Where you get off cussin' at me for?" Daryl glared at her, crossbow slung over his back.

"Well…you weren't comin'," Beth flustered.

"I don't come at your beck 'n call," Daryl ground out, "What'cha want?"

"Look," Beth pointed to the ground.

There, in the mud, were hoof prints. Beth wasn't an expert tracker like Daryl, but she'd been raised on a farm and knew what a horse's print looked like when she saw one.

"So?" Daryl shrugged his shoulders.

"Don't you get it? There's a horse somewhere nearby! These tracks are relatively fresh. If we follow'em, we might find ourselves a ride!" Beth answered him excitedly.

"_Hell_ no," Daryl immediately answered.

"What?! Why not?" Beth stared at him in disbelief. He may enjoy walking, but she was all about finding an easier way of transportation if it was possible.

"Ain't no chance I'm gettin' back on one of them things," Daryl gestured at the prints in disgust.

Beth stared at him incredulously. The wheels in her mind began to turn and she suddenly remembered the last time Daryl had had an experience with a horse.

"You..uh…" Beth leaned into him with a smile, "wouldn't be _afraid_ of horses, now would ya'?"

"I already told ya'," Daryl brushed his nose with the back of his hand, "I ain't afraid of nothin'."

Beth kept her knowing smile. He could act as tough as he wanted, but she saw right thought his façade.

"You keep tellin' yourself that," she teased, patting him on his shoulder as she walked by.

She would store this new information for use on a later date. There was no way she could ever let the all-powerful Daryl Dixon live down being afraid of a four-legged animal. That was just silly.

**A/N: **Norman Reedus isn't a big fan of horses so when my BETA gave me the word horse, I just couldn't resist. The reference to this drabble is from season 2 where Daryl takes off on Nervous Nelly looking for Sophia. Hope you enjoyed!


	9. Chapter 9 (Gift Fic)

**Disclaimer:** A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

**Gift** for Nicole137137 - my wonderful BETA!

Prompt: Daisy

**A/N:** To my guest review who pointed out that Daryl had given Carol the Cherokee Rose, THANK YOU! I had completely forgotten about that!

...

Beth sat on the edge of the road. Daryl was leaning over the hood of a car looking at a map he'd found in an abandoned convenience store, trying to get an idea of where they were in retrospect to the prison.

"We passed this road a few miles back," he mumbled to himself.

He could hear Beth humming. The melody was unfamiliar, but soothing nonetheless. He glanced down at her, making sure she didn't get too lost in her thoughts. She tended to disappear on him from time to time and when he'd get her to snap back to reality, she'd have a forlorn look, and he knew she'd been thinking about her family.

"What's got you starin' so hard?" Daryl tried to follow her gaze.

"Hmm?" She blinked a few times, "Oh, I saw some daisies over there."

Across the road, growing in the ditch, were patches of yellow and white flowers. Daryl had never cared for flowers, only having given one colorful plant to a woman in his entire life, but the expression on Beth's face made him consider doing so again.

"So go grab one," he flicked his wrist towards the bushel and looked back to the map.

"Nah," Beth shook her head, reclaiming Daryl's attention, "Daddy told me one time; if you love a flower, don't pick it. Because if you pick it up it dies and it ceases to be what you love. Love is not about possession. Love is about appreciation."

Daryl didn't have a comeback to Hershel's wise words so he remained quiet. He replayed the quote in his head, weighing the meaning behind it, and couldn't help but agree with the sentiment. Then again, the world was different now. Where people could sit back and enjoy life _before_, every moment was a fight for survival now. They couldn't sit around and wait for things to work out for them; they had to go after what they wanted. Life was just too short.

Folding up the map, too distracted to plan out a course for them to follow, Daryl walked across the road and picked a white daisy. He twirled it between his index finger and thumb a few times before he had worked out a reply.

Turning on his heel, he strode over to Beth and crouched in front of her, "They'll die eventually anyhow."

The smile Beth gave him as she took the flower was so genuine, it touched his soul. He didn't have many fond memories to recall. His life had always been hard; full of people with sketchy backgrounds and ulterior motives, but Beth…she was something good.

He'd give her a thousand daisies if it meant he'd get another smile like the one she had now.

**A/N: **The quote Hershel states in this drabble is from Osho. Have to give credit where credit is due!

Really loved this one! It was just a sweet scene of how they have to enjoy living in the moment!

I'm open to taking prompt requests if anyone has any! Remember these snippets are DURING THE TIME BETH AND DARYL ARE TOGETHER AFTER THE PRISON FELL AND BEFORE THEIR SEPARATION! Just leave me a few of your favorite words and I'll try to use at least one from each review I'm given! I don't write a lot of drabbles! I use these more as a change of pace between chapters when I have the itch to write. It may be a while, but I promise to try and get to everyone who leaves a request! XOXO


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

**Thank you** Nicole137137 for editing for me! XOXO

Prompt #121: Confession

Beth stoked the fire, prodding the new pieces of food with a long stick, and gazed thoughtfully at the flames. She could hear Daryl sharpening his blade on a whetstone while he sat beside her. They had their perimeter marked with twine, the plastic hubcaps from an abandoned car they'd come across after the prison fell, threaded through the string. They'd added a few tin cans and plastic bottles, allowing them a bit more security.

They had a good system going, Daryl would hunt, Beth would help him clean and then cook the meat. Then they'd eat while having casual conversations about absolutely nothing; sharing bits and pieces about life _before_. Beth partook in the conversations more than Daryl, and she had soon figured out that Daryl wasn't the type to reveal anything of his own accord. He'd give her short, vague snippets to appease her, but nothing of great relevance to his life. That's when she had decided to start asking him questions. If she asked about parts of the story, it made him elaborate, and she was eventually able to paint the whole picture.

He shared with her more willingly now, realizing she wasn't going to let him get away with one word responses, and she felt like they knew more about each other than she had known about most of the other people that were…_had_ been in their group.

Beth glanced over at him. He was methodically wiping his knife against the whetstone, but seemed more lost in thought than actually sharpening the blade. She decided they had sat in silence for long enough. She needed to have a conversation and he needed to come back to the state of Georgia from whatever planet he was currently visiting.

"When's your birthday?" She asked quietly.

"What?" Daryl blinked a few times and turned to look at her.

"When is your birthday?" She punctuated each word calmly.

"In January," Daryl replied.

"What day?" Beth inquired.

"Tha' sixth," he answered.

"What year?" Beth tried to feign indifference.

She had secretly been trying to get him to tell her his age for several weeks now. She didn't understand what the big deal was. She wasn't asking him for some sort of deep, meaningful confession. She just wanted to know how old he was and for whatever reason, he flat out refused to divulge the information, which in turn made her want to know all the more.

"In tha' twentieth century," he remarked smartly.

Beth rolled her eyes, "I'm gonna' get it out of you eventually."

"You can try," Daryl smirked.

"Is that a challenge?" Beth narrowed her eyes.

"Take it as you will," Daryl's smirk widened into a semi-smile.

Beth eyed him wearily. He ignored her and inspected the blade of his hunting knife; scraping the edge across his thumb to test how much it had sharpened. It sometimes bothered her that he rarely asked her questions of his own. She wasn't sure if he just wasn't interested in knowing that much about her or if he felt like he was prying.

"What's your middle name?" Beth asked the next question that popped into her head.

"Don't have one," Daryl didn't seem startled by her randomness, having adjusted to her impromptu train of thought.

"Really? What about Merle?" She tested the waters.

Daryl glanced at her, but she made sure to keep her expression simply curious.

"He didn't have one neither," he said quietly.

"Well," Beth began, "it's not uncommon. Lots of people don't have middle names."

"Hell, I's lucky just t'get a name period," his snide remark laden with a resentful undertone.

Beth remained quiet, allowing Daryl the freedom to end or continue the conversation.

"My mom didn't much take care of us. It was always just me and Merle. Or just me if Merle was in juvie" Daryl explained.

Beth nodded, not wanting to offend Daryl by presuming anything and asking an inappropriate question when she was treading on thin ice by mentioning Merle.

"I don't put much stock in people's names anyway," Daryl finished.

Beth brought her knees to her chest, resting her chin atop her frayed jeans, and chewed on her bottom lip, "My name means a lot to me."

He stopped fiddling with his knife and looked up at her. She wasn't sure if he was waiting for her to continue, wanting to know the importance of her name, or if he knew she would eventually elaborate.

Deciding not to dwell on her thoughts, Beth peaked at him, "Beth Ann Greene. Ann is short of Annette…for my momma."

There was a heavy silence.

"I thought Beth was short for something fancy," Daryl admitted; having turned back to the fire.

Beth recognized the subtle change in his demeanor. He was worried that his previous comment had offended her. Deciding to put him at ease, she said the first smart comment that came to mind.

"I'm full of surprises," she teased.

Daryl snorted, obviously amused with her, and she was relieved her comment had taken away his discomfort.

Their conversation died, both of them staring into the fire, in a comfortable silence. Beth went back to prodding the fire and Daryl had pulled out another knife to sharpen. When he hesitated mid-swipe, she glanced at him.

"When's yer' birthday?" He asked after a brief pause.

"August thirteenth," Beth answered with a smile.

Maybe he cared more than she thought.

**A/N:** Two uploads in a twenty-four hour period! I'm gonna' spoil you guys! Lol

No those are not really Daryl and Beth's birth dates. They _are_ Norman Reedus' and Emily Kinney's birthday's. Thought it'd be a fun little twist. Let me know what you think! XOXO


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